


To Make Dreams Truths, and Fables Histories

by potentiality_26



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Hallucinations, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 17:42:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13506582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potentiality_26/pseuds/potentiality_26
Summary: The tooth had begun to trouble him around the time Childermass had last paid him a visit.  He had seen Segundus rubbing his jaw and offered to find a man to remove it before he left.  Vinculus had seen it too and offered to take the tooth out himself.  Convinced the pain would eventually go away on its own, Segundus had refused them both.  He now regretted not accepting at least Childermass’ help.  There was no one, perhaps in all the world, better at arranging things than he.  But Segundus had refused, and when the pain in his tooth had grown so bad he finally decided to see someone in York about it, it snowed.  And so he remained at Starecross, alone, his toothache and his humor getting worse by the hour.Why was there no spell that could cure him?  How was it possible that something so simple and yet so necessary should be beyond his power?  Segundus had spent too much time in the company of Lady Pole not to know the dangers of fairy magic, and yet he was beginning to think he would summon one and ask it to do its worst very soon if he did not get some relief.Segundus' attempt to cure a toothache with magic goes somewhat awry.





	To Make Dreams Truths, and Fables Histories

**Author's Note:**

> Title from John Donne's [The Dream](http://www.bartleby.com/357/26.html).

For as long as he could remember, and longer, John Segundus had loved magic.  From the first time a nanny told him a fairy tale, the first time a street magician accosted his family on a day in the city, and the first time he read the name of the Raven King in a book, Segundus had had only one wish: to study magic.  He also wished, deep in his heart, that he might do it himself one day, and perhaps teach the skill to others- but that was a secret wish, held so close and fast that Segundus himself was hardly aware of it.

After Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell brought magic back to England, and Segundus achieved all these objects and more, he set up his school at Starecross Hall with his friend Mr. Honeyfoot and supposed he could not have been happier.

Except on one particular day- today, if you will.  Today, John Segundus was heartily angry at magic. 

This was in part because, as content as Segundus was in his chosen existence, it could be a lonely one.  During the winter holidays, the students went home.  Mr. Honeyfoot returned to his home and family, and though he never failed to invite Segundus to stay with him Segundus often refused.  He had no living relations, and was accordingly very much alone that time of year unless Childermass- sometimes accompanied by Vinculus, other times in pursuit of him- stopped to spend a few nights at Starecross.  Segundus had at first only grudgingly allowed him to stay- after all, they had long been at odds- but Childermass had proven a far more amiable houseguest than Segundus had supposed.  His manners were rough and his notions of humor were positively frightening- but he never came without some interesting piece of news to share, and he never left without negotiating something with the locals or the gardeners or the stones of the hall itself that made living there more comfortable, and in between the two he was never as uncouth or sullen as Segundus had once imagined him to be.  When they spoke of magic together the hours would fly by like a flock of birds.  Indeed, it was now long since Segundus had known anyone whose company he liked better.  But Childermass was currently in London, and Segundus was alone- that was certainly part of the difficulty.  

It was cold and bleak at Starecross that time of year.  That was part of it too.  It had snowed a week previously and the roads were still all but impassable.  Normally Segundus did not mind a little solitude, for he enjoyed his studies, but there was only so much a man- a man like Segundus, at any rate- could read hunched over by the fireplace before he began to long for another human face.

Perhaps if it had not been so cold, and he had not been so lonely, and the roads had not been so clogged, it would not have come to this.  To Segundus alone at his desk, with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and what must have been all the bits of parchment, and dashed-out spells, and notes on magical history in Starecross arrayed in front of him, cursing magic roundly because he could not use it to cure his toothache. 

The tooth had begun to trouble him around the time Childermass had last paid him a visit.  He had seen Segundus rubbing his jaw and offered to find a man to remove it before he left.  Vinculus had seen it too and offered to take the tooth out himself.  Convinced the pain would eventually go away on its own, Segundus had refused them both.  He now regretted not accepting at least Childermass’ help.  There was no one, perhaps in all the world, better at arranging things than he.  But Segundus had refused, and when the pain in his tooth had grown so bad he finally decided to see someone in York about it, it snowed.  And so he remained at Starecross, alone, his toothache and his humor getting worse by the hour. 

Why was there no spell that could cure him?  How was it possible that something so simple and yet so necessary should be beyond his power?  Segundus had spent too much time in the company of Lady Pole not to know the dangers of fairy magic, and yet he was beginning to think he would summon one and ask it to do its worst very soon if he did not get some relief.

Just when Segundus thought he had exhausted his options, he chanced on a scrap of paper with a handwritten spell on it.  The writing was Vinculus’.  Segundus supposed he must have left it behind accidentally- but could not recall letting him into the library of late.

Segundus stared at the little spell, which seemed to be the stroke of good luck he had so desperately needed.  It was a spell to relieve suffering, and it seemed harmless enough.  Looking at its components, Segundus could tell that it would not heal his tooth.  It would only provide illusory relief, and only within a small area, but that seemed sufficient for the time being.  He would be thinking clearly again, and perhaps he would be able to come up with a better solution. 

The spell employed the use of candles, which did briefly give Segundus pause.  He had never yet been able to light one without becoming mortally convinced that Lady Pole’s fairy tormentor would appear.  

Still, Segundus was willing to try anything, and try it he did.  He lit the candle, waved the bunch of wild celery, and murmured the words.       

In the moment he had done so, the fire guttered and almost went out.  Segundus went to stoke it.  Once he had, he found the room warmer than it had been before, the light merrier, and his jaw relaxed for the first time in days.  His tooth ached less too; indeed, in only moments it ceased to ache at all. 

He took a deep, happy breath.  What a useful little spell!  It would only last as long as the candle itself did, but Segundus was so cheered by the spell’s effectiveness thus far that he was confident a new solution would soon present itself. 

Just as Segundus redoubled his efforts to find a permanent solution, there was a loud knock at the door.

At this time of night, it was likely that someone had run afoul of something they thought only the local magician could handle.  It would, Segundus supposed, take him away from his research for a time- perhaps for as long as the spell would give him- but he wasn’t annoyed, though he certainly would have been only an hour ago.  Rather he thought it might be nice to see someone and to make himself useful.  Whatever was on the other side of that door, Segundus was convinced it could bring only good things.     

He took the candle with him to light the way down the hall and flung open the door.  On the other side he found not a farmer with grudging pleas on his lips but Childermass, with snow on his hat, in his hair, and along the shoulders of his black coat.

Segundus blinked at him, a little stupidly.  “However did you make it through all that snow?”

“It was just a flurry,” Childermass replied, showing no sign of surprise at this peculiar greeting.  “The roads weren’t too bad, and should be fine by morning.”

Segundus peered out and saw that he was right.  The sky was clear; it was as though the snow merely clung to Childermass because it liked him.  Segundus hardly blamed it, for he looked as wild yet alluring as ever.  “Forgive me,” he said, flushing.  “Come in.  Flurry or not you must be chilled to the bone.” 

Childermass looked bemused as Segundus brushed him off, tugged him inside, and took his coat and hat.  “Thank you, sir,” he said. 

“None of that,” Segundus managed, hanging up the coat.  He could not stop himself from thinking how well it looked next to his.  “I understood that you were in London,” he said, to halt those thoughts in their tracks.  

“I was,” Childermass said.  “But now I’m here.”

Segundus nodded.  He was accustomed to that kind of economy of answers where Childermass was concerned.  “Is Vinculus not with you?”

“He’s in a public house in the village,” Childermass reported.  He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his shoulder against the wall, a kind of frustrated fondness suffusing his features.  “He had a busy last few days of it.  I doubt he’ll do much harm before morning.”

“I’m sure,” Segundus replied.  He was sure Childermass knew exactly how much leeway he should or should not give his charge, but he couldn’t help the trace of disappointment that crept into his tone. 

Childermass cocked his head to one side.  “I can’t recall I’ve ever known you to be sorry I did not have Vinculus with me.”

“I am in this case,” Segundus said with a laugh, “because he left a spell behind and it was such an effective little thing.  I wanted to thank him for it.  But if you will promise to pass on my compliments when you retrieve him, then I will consider my obligation in the matter fulfilled- and say that I am very glad it shall be only you and I this evening.”

Childermass gave a slow smile.  “As am I.”

For a moment, all Segundus could do was smile back.  When he noticed that the moment had stretched a bit too long, he cleared his throat and straightened up.  “Please,” he said.  “You must come and sit by the fire.”

He beckoned Childermass into the library.  It was not so proper as the parlor, but they often sat together there, poring over what books Segundus had collected together since the loss of Hurtfew and talking about what books Childermass could remember from before, sketching out the things he recalled them to have said.  At any rate, the library already had a fine fire in it, and Segundus could not afford to have too many fires burning in too many rooms, especially when one of them was left empty.

“Would you like a brandy, Mr. Childermass?” Segundus asked once Childermass had settled himself into one of the chairs closest to the fire.  When Childermass said he would, Segundus put the candle aside and poured one for himself as well. 

Just as he was casting about for some topic of conversation, Childermass asked, “What manner of spell was it that Vinculus left for you?”

Segundus frowned a little.  “A spell for the relief of suffering,” he said.

He could not see the expression on Childermass’ face when he asked, “You were suffering, Mr. Segundus?”

Once, during the summer months, it had been unseasonably hot, and Segundus had enlisted Childermass’ help in the gardens.  It was rough, sweaty work and Childermass- who was not a man to let propriety stand in his way- had stripped off his shirt.  Segundus had done all he could not to look, but even so he had seen the scar from the bullet he took for Norrell, as well as a myriad of other scars.  A few appeared to be knife wounds, while Segundus could not even begin to guess at the source of others.  Most notably, however, cut deep into his back, was the evidence that Childermass had been whipped, more than once and quite badly. 

Even looking beyond the physical evidence of it, Segundus was aware that Childermass’ life had often been a painful one.  In the face of all that he must indeed have suffered, Segundus supposed his toothache- as torturous as it had seemed to him only an hour earlier- would appear a very minor complaint indeed.  He said so, and handed Childermass his brandy.  “You must think it very silly.”  His fingertips brushed across Childermass’ as he took the glass. 

“Not at all,” Childermass replied, looking at Segundus very gravely.  “I do not think you at all silly.”

Segundus sat in the chair opposite Childermass, clutching at his brandy glass for something to do with his hands, which still felt the heat of Childermass’ touch keenly.  “Do you not?”

“No.  And I don’t think Vinculus left the spell by mistake, either.”  Childermass got that look of frustrated fondness on his face again.  “His ways might be impenetrable to the logical man, but there is a pattern to them.  He rarely does anything by accident.”    

“I suppose not,” Segundus said.  “Well.  I did mention my toothache when last you were here.  Perhaps he knew it would only get worse.”

Childermass shook his head.  “I do not think that is all.”

Segundus blinked.  “No?”

“I think he has seen, as I have, that there is more amiss with you than a toothache. That you are sad.”

“I am not sad,” Segundus protested, though the words immediately rang hollow in his ears.  “Perhaps I am a little lonely, but it is only because the weather is so gloomy and I have had so few visitors.  When the students return I shall be my old self again.”

Childermass did not appear to believe this.  “You were sad even before the winter holidays,” he said.  “Indeed, I cannot remember the last time you were your ‘old self.’”

“My spirits have not been so low,” Segundus insisted.

“Most men might not have seen it,” Childermass agreed, leaning closer to Segundus.  “But I have.  I have asked my cards about it.”

“Have you indeed?  And how did they respond?”

“With the normal things that make a man such as you melancholy.”  Childermass did not say what these were, he merely leaned closer still.  “And something else.”

“What?” Segundus asked, breathless with Childermass’ closeness and with curiosity as well- for, indeed, Childermass sometimes made him think that his cards knew all.

“Me,” Childermass said.  “And I am here to tell you, sir, that there is no need- no need in the world- for you to be sad about me.”

Segundus swallowed heavily.  Childermass was very close indeed at that point, and Segundus was not at all sure what- if anything- he was meant to do about it, or about what Childermass was saying.  He was accustomed to hanging on to his doubts, to his propriety.  They kept him safe, especially where John Childermass was concerned.  They had helped him avoid a tongue lashing more than once- and most importantly they did not let him put anything, anything a man like Childermass was unlikely to have ever contemplated from a man like him, on the line. 

And yet... and yet perhaps the warm glow of the firelight softened Childermass in places where he was normally all rough and jagged edges, or perhaps Segundus was actually seeing him properly for the first time- but, whatever the reason, Segundus had a feeling that he was about to do something that neither doubts nor propriety would normally allow.  He licked his lips and saw how Childermass’ eyes followed the gesture.  “May I kiss you, Mr. Childermass?” he asked softly. 

Childermass huffed out a laugh.  “Of course you may,” he said.

Still astonished by his own boldness, Segundus closed what distance remained between them.  The kiss was chaste, at first- just a gentle brush of the lips.  Childermass’ mouth was a little chapped and chilled by the wind outside, but that didn’t make it feel any less good to kiss him.  Segundus sank into that mouth and almost fell out of his chair.

With another soft laugh, Childermass gripped him by the elbows and steadied him, drawing him closer still.  “Better?” he asked

Segundus was all but in his lap, and he expected to be embarrassed by it, but Childermass captured his lips again and all such thoughts flew from his mind.

This kiss was deeper, but still tender in a way Segundus would not have expected of Childermass if he had allowed himself to expect anything at all.  Childermass teased at his lips, tasted them as a connoisseur tasted a fine vintage of wine.  Segundus felt inexperienced and clumsy in comparison, for though he had kissed and been kissed before it had been a long time since he was last touched at all.  But Childermass gave a soft growl and tightened his grip, making it clear that he would be happy to continue in that fashion for a long while. 

“Are you tired?” Segundus finally asked, after they had been kissing for that long while.

Childermass nodded, close enough still for Segundus to _feel_ it.  

“I suppose- in the interests of staying warm- you might like to... share my fire tonight?”

“I should like that.”  Childermass sounded amused, but not at Segundus’ expense.

Segundus smiled.  “I still have some things to finish here, but-”

“I will wait for you.”

Childermass kissed him once more and smoothly rose, heading for the door.  Segundus was of a mind to close up the house and rush to join him.  He could hardly believe that this was happening.  It was only when he was alone that Segundus remembered that the candle from his spell still burned.  He should not leave it.  Yes, if he ended the spell the pain would come back- but it would be much easier to bear with Childermass at his side, and since the roads were passable again he would be able to see someone about it soon- that thought alone would greatly improve matters.  

Segundus blew out the candle. 

As he had expected, the throbbing pain in his tooth came back almost immediately.  But that was not all: the fire was suddenly almost out, its light a pale shadow of its former self, and it was cold in the library- very cold.

He thought to call Childermass and ask if these changes alarmed him as well, and then he was gripped by a terrible fear.  He dashed out into the hall.  Childermass’ hat and coat were not hanging beside his, nor were his boots by the door.

Segundus flung it open and could plainly see that no one had been that way for some time. What was more, it was storming heavily again.  No one could have easily ridden in at all.

He was alone.  He always had been.

*   *   *

The next three days were among the most unpleasant Segundus could remember spending.  The latest snowfall had- again- kept him from making a journey to the city or even the village, and though his toothache did not get worse in that time it certainly did not get better. 

At any rate, it was no longer the worst thing Segundus had to contend with. 

There was the matter of Vinculus’ spell- and Childermass.  Always, always Childermass.

Segundus had made a mistake.  One he would undoubtedly not have made had he not let his toothache get so bad without trying to cure it in a mundane manner.  A spell had to be specific in nature if it was to bring about a specific result, and that spell had not been specific at all.  It was a spell to relieve suffering- of course it wouldn’t stop with his toothache.  Segundus would have realized that, except that he had never thought of himself as suffering.  A trifle sad and lonely, perhaps- but nowhere near as sad as the spell seemed to imply.  He certainly hadn’t been pining for Childermass- or had he?  Before the spell Segundus would never have thought so, but now... now that he had kissed Childermass, or at least believed that he had... well.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when Childermass ceased to be someone whose presence he tolerated and became someone whose companionship he enjoyed.  Just the same, he couldn’t at all put his finger on when, exactly, enjoying Childermass’ company became loving him, but Segundus had known for some months that it had.  When he saw Childermass riding up to the hall, what he felt was no longer just a friendly warmth but something that burned altogether hotter.  When a curl of Childermass’ hair fell across his cheek just so, his chest tightened and his heart beat fast.  He wanted long nights sitting by the fire talking, and long days poring over what books they had.  He wanted Childermass in his bed, not just for whatever activities might be pleasing to both of them in the dark, but also to wake up in the morning stretched out beside.  He wanted them to go through the remainder of their lives as much together as possible.        

It was most inconvenient. 

Segundus had, accordingly, put the whole business from his mind.  He had been doing a good job of it until that spell.  After it, he was left heartily miserable.  

For two of the three days Segundus refused to so much as consider looking for another magical cure.  By the third, however, he was desperate.  He went tearing through his library and found a numbing spell that he had dismissed some time ago as not specific enough- the irony of which did not escape him now.  He decided to risk it.

The spell did indeed numb the pain.  It numbed everything else as well.  It became difficult for Segundus to focus- his senses were too muffled- and time seemed to pass in starts and stops.

Then he wondered if he had not unthinkingly used that first spell again, because Mr. Honeyfoot appeared- Segundus did not recall letting him in- and suddenly his rooms were full of people, all discussing what was to be done for him.  One of the people was Childermass, and after a few well-placed insults he became the only person.  After that Segundus remembered only more pain, followed by less, and the wild wind-across-the-moors sensation of Childermass’ magic, and the sweet agony of Childermass’ hand smoothing across his forehead.      

At some point Segundus slept, and when he woke up both the pain and the toothache were gone.  He was in his bed, and a chair had been dragged to the foot of it.  Childermass was in the chair, in his shirtsleeves, with his elbows resting on his knees.

Childermass met his gaze curiously. “Are you going to ask if I am real again?”

“I do not recall asking the first time,” Segundus replied.  He swallowed, wondering what else he might have said that he did not remember.

Childermass looked amused.  “It was not one time,” he said.  “It was closer to a dozen.”

Segundus sat up, such as he was able.  “I believe I was feverish.”  That much might have been true, but he went on to lie: “I saw as much of Gilbert Norrell as yourself.”

Childermass directed his eyes heavenward.  Whether this was because he knew it wasn’t true or because that was how he always reacted when someone spoke the name of his former employer Segundus did not know.   

He changed the subject with all the dignity he could muster.  “Did you find someone to pull my tooth in the end?”

“No,” Childermass said.  “I did it myself in the end.”

Numbed and unobservant as he had been of late, Segundus could tell that it had been skillfully done.  He did not know why that irritated him so- perhaps because now that he knew the true extent of his feelings for Childermass he could not unknow them, and he dearly wished he could.  “Was that another service you provided Mr. Norrell?”

Why the thought of Norrell in particular annoyed him, at least, was now plain.  He had long supposed he merely resented the man for pushing him in this direction and that without care- and he did, certainly.  But he also resented the puzzle of him.  Segundus liked people, and had found it wholly impossible to like Norrell.  The question of how, then, Norrell had inspired such loyalty in Childermass- for a man as strong-willed and opinionated as he would have stayed so long for no other reason- troubled Segundus’ mind immensely. 

Not so Childermass’, if the quirk of his mouth was any indication.

"From time to time,” he said.  “He would allow no one else such liberties.”

Segundus felt a sharp, and foolish, surge of jealousy.  He had no reason to believe that Norrell had ever been intimate with Childermass, and even if he had... Norrell was gone, perhaps never to return.  It did not matter.  It mattered even less when he took into account that he himself had no claim on Childermass and almost certainly never would.  There was no call to be uncivil over it.  “I thank you,” he said.  “I should have said so before, that was remiss of me.”

“Pain can make a man remiss,” Childermass observed, still amused.

“So it can,” Segundus agreed.

They were both silent for a moment, looking at one another.  Then Childermass said, “Now that I’ve confirmed you’re well, I will go.”

“Go,” Segundus heard himself repeat, relieved and disappointed at once that Childermass would be leaving.

Childermass’ look of amusement still hung about his eyes.  “I must report to the others that you are out of danger.”

“Yes, of course.”

Childermass inclined his head and departed before Segundus could fully comprehend what he meant.  And then Segundus was alone. 

He was not so for long, however.  Soon Mr. Honeyfoot descended, accompanied by Mrs. Honeyfoot and a bowl of soup.  Segundus ate the soup and did his best to convince his friend and his friend’s wife that he was well. 

Segundus did indeed feel much recovered- in body if not in spirit.  By evening, he thought himself entirely well enough to make the journey down to his library, which he recalled having left in a very sorry state.

Upon his arrival there- made leaning not too heavily on Mr. Honeyfoot’s arm- Segundus discovered that, in fact, everything was in its proper place.

“I cannot have done this in my illness,” he said, sitting down heavily.

“Indeed not.”

Segundus started rather powerfully at the unexpected voice.  He looked around sharply and discovered Childermass lurking in the far corner of the library, where most of him was in shadow and he melted into the wall.  “Childermass,” he said faintly.  “You did all this?”

Childermass merely inclined his head.

It was Honeyfoot who chuckled and said, “And more.”   

Segundus felt his face flush.  He had never felt very easy about Childermass doing things for him, not even after he came to consider them friends.  He could not properly say why this was the case- because he did not wish Childermass to think he, like Norrell, was under the impression that they were not equals?  Or perhaps because Childermass always did things for his own reasons and Segundus could think of no good one for Childermass’ presence in his life at all?

That uneasiness was stronger now. 

Childermass grunted and occupied himself fiddling with a bookcase.

Honeyfoot said, “I must leave you.  It’s late and my wife and I must return home.”

Segundus desperately wanted Honeyfoot to remain- if only to give him something to think on and someone to talk to beyond Childermass- but could think of no reason for it.  So he allowed Honeyfoot to take his leave, and was soon alone with Childermass again. 

It felt entirely different- this being alone with Childermass business- after the spell than it had before it.

“Where is Vinculus?” Segundus asked, largely to fill the silence. 

“In town,” Childermass said.  “Drinking, most likely- but he is tired from our journey and will do little harm in the course of a single evening.”

Segundus nodded, feeling strangely untethered.  That his vision had come so close to the truth in this respect unsettled him- though he could not say if it made what he had seen seem more real, or what he saw now seem less.

“Why?” Childermass asked.

At a loss, Segundus gave more or less the same answer he had before.  “He left a spell for me, which I tried.  Not the numbing agent, but another.  I thought to ask him about it.”

Childermass was still leaning in the corner, his arms across his chest- but at that he grunted again and unfolded himself, taking a slip of paper from his inner pocket.  “This?” he asked.  His voice was mild but his eyes flashed.  “A spell to relieve suffering?”  

Segundus rose.  He felt himself flush again.  “Yes.”

Childermass crossed to his side and set the paper down on the desk beside him.  He tapped it lightly with a fingertip.  “And did this spell have something to do with why you asked me so often if I was real?”

“I told you-” Segundus began faintly.  He reached for the paper but couldn’t seem to take it up, so he just let his hand rest there.  “I saw-”

“You told me you saw Gilbert Norrell as much as myself,” Childermass said.  And it was difficult to argue with him at the best of times.  Impossible without the courage of one’s convictions.   Impossible when it wasn’t true.  “But it was not Gilbert Norrell’s name you cried out.  It was not Gilbert Norrell’s touch you shuddered at.”  Childermass placed his hand atop Segundus’ own.

Segundus did indeed shudder.  “An unpleasant reaction,” he tried to suggest, regretting it immediately.  He did not wish to lose Childermass’ friendship- so hard won- over this. 

Childermass’ hand slid up his arm, provoking another shudder.  “I think not.”

“No,” Segundus admitted as Childermass’ hand made itself at home on his shoulder.  He no longer had the energy to lie. 

“You saw me,” Childermass said, his grip tightening fractionally.  “Because you were... suffering.  Over me.”

“Yes.”  He had hidden that from himself for so long, but he could hide it not more.  And Childermass was so close, and so warm, and the look of astonishment on his face was so sweet that Segundus almost wondered if he hadn’t somehow used that spell again.  If this wasn’t all in his mind again.

But then Childermass’ hand slackened, dropped, and he backed off entirely.  He didn’t go far, no more than a step, certainly- but Segundus had leaned so unthinkingly close that he felt as though Childermass’ withdrawal had pulled the very floor out from underneath his feet.

And then he was afraid.  He hadn’t thought Childermass looked shocked or angry- but quickly Segundus became sure he was.  He opened his mouth to say... something, with no idea what of it would be, and finally settled on, “It means nothing.”

Angry or not, Childermass' lip quirked.  “I do not think that can be possible.”

Segundus let out a breath.  “Yes, all right,” he said.  “It does mean something.  It means-”

He found himself pressing forward.  He was unsure of his welcome, of course, but he was sure that if Childermass was singularly uninterested he would not be even this close.  He would not have remained at all.

“It means I-”

Segundus was cut off.  He could have been more annoyed about that if it had not been for the means- Childermass’ hands coming to rest on either side of his face, and Childermass’ lips colliding with his own.  It was a rough kiss, but not unpleasant.  And it became utterly delicious when the pressure of Childermass’ lips softened abruptly and turned hesitant and sweet.

When the kiss ended Childermass stayed close, his fingers gentle on Segundus’ temples and in his hair, his thumbs sliding over Segundus’ cheekbones. 

Segundus tried again.  “It means I-”

“No,” Childermass said.  His voice was certainly rough, but he stayed pressed up against Segundus.  His eyes were shut, and his face contorted.

There were many things, of late, that Segundus had never imagined.  But perhaps most impressive among them was this- that _Childermass_ might be suffering over _him_.  By the looks of it, he was.  And he had known that he was for good while longer than Segundus.  “It means I-”

Childermass tugged lightly on his hair, calloused fingers applying pressure to his face.  “No,” he said again.  “I am not-”    

When it became clear that Childermass was not going to continue, Segundus tried, “Not what?”

Childermass’ thumbs stroked over his cheeks again, and his look turned gentle.  “I am not anyone to see under the influence of such a spell.”

“But _I_ saw you,” Segundus said.

“What you saw cannot have been very much like me,” Childermass replied.  He released Segundus abruptly.

“You are right,” Segundus said, thinking back.  He was confused, but he didn’t intend to let Childermass push him away without a fight, not after that kiss.  “He was not entirely like you.  In my mind at the time I could excuse it, but the truth was plain as day.”

Childermass nodded.  He managed to look stung and satisfied at once.  “Then do not mistake me now,” he said. 

And Segundus understood.  “I don’t,” he replied.

“You showed no sign of interest before your... vision,” Childermass pointed out.  “I cannot be blamed for wondering if you are... confused.”

“I’m not,” Segundus insisted.  He found Childermass’ hand once more and touched it lightly.  “When have I ever mistaken you for a _better_ man than you are?”

Childermass’ laugh was airier than usual.  “When indeed,” he murmured.

Segundus smiled tentatively. 

“You saw-”

“I saw that you wanted to be here with me,” Segundus said.  “And it healed a wound inside me that I did not know was bleeding.  And yes, the version of you that I saw _was_ different, but that does not mean I mistake you now.  What I saw did not lead me to believe that you are not quarrelsome and even downright rude.  It did not make me think that you would not follow your own whims or go about your own business.  It did not leave me with any lasting impression that you were more beautiful or kind or biddable than you are.  I am not suffering in any way or from anything that could not be soothed if you only said-”

“I want to stay,” Childermass said quickly.  He looked annoyed with himself and cautiously hopeful at once.  “I cannot be always here, but I want- I want this to be where I come back to.  I have wanted that for a very long time.”

Segundus felt his smile spread almost unbearably wide.  “Then we have time for everything else.”

"Yes,” Childermass agreed, his fingers moving to wrap around Segundus’ own.

And Segundus did not wake, for there was nothing to wake from. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come see me on [tumblr](http://potentiality-26.tumblr.com).


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